


Until Next Time

by CallousHeartz



Series: How Time Decides [8]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, dead draculoids rip, sand dunes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 05:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17802086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallousHeartz/pseuds/CallousHeartz
Summary: sometimes it takes a firefight to get people talking.





	Until Next Time

On the third morning of Ghoul's stay at the Killjoys' ramshackle diner hideout, he leaves his 'bedroom' to find the gang gathered in a booth, an air of quiet agitation hanging over the scene.

Jet's bent over what looks like a retro sci-fi style radio on the table, fiddling with buttons and dials, brows knitted together in concentration, mumbling to himself occasionally. Poison's watching closely over his shoulder. Kobra, on the other side of the booth, sits with his legs outstretched and his feet on the table. He grins his usual toothy grin as Ghoul shuts the door behind him.

"Morning, Monster Man! Come sit," He pats the space beside him, before adding, "We're a bit fucked."

Ghoul glances at the other two guys, who haven't yet acknowledged his entrance, as he takes a seat.

"What's going on?" He asks, voice low so as not to disrupt whatever it is Jet's doing.

"He's tryin' t'contact Zone 2," Kobra explains, "'cause 'pparently there's shit goin' down over there. And by 'shit' I mean the Better Living kind,"

"So why are you guys fucked?"

"Well, gotta go over there, 'aven't we? Kinda the point'a bein' the Killjoys," Kobra shrugs, "BLI fucks up someone's shit, we fuck up their shit. Custom,"

Jet sighs harshly and tugs at his dark curls.  
"This is bullshit," He announces, "No fucking signal, no fucking clue what's going on. Best we can do is get the hell over there before it gets real,"

"Alright," Poison stands up, picking his jacket off the seat, "Let's go. We ain't got time to waste,"

"I'm staying back here then, I guess?"  
Ghoul asks as the others follow Poison like clockwork.

"Well I highly doubt you've ever had to face a Drac before, so," Poison replies, and Ghoul's face screws up in indignance.

"Yes the fuck I have, actually," He scoffs. He jerks his thumb at Kobra, "He was there,"

"I mean, 'e's got a blaster, and besides, another pair of 'ands wouldn't hurt," Kobra reasons.

"Just 'cause someone can hold a gun, don't mean they know how to handle a firefight," Poison replies, popping his jacket collar and blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes, "Now come on, we got somewhere to get to,"

"And I'm coming with you," Ghoul stands up.  
He looks the leader straight in the eye with defiance.

Poison looks him up and down.  
"'kay then," His voice is heavy with condescension, "If you're so convinced you can handle it,"

"Great," Ghoul replies, smirk unwavering. He's got a lot to prove, but challenges are what he does best.

****

It starts at Route Guano.  
As the sign post comes into view, so does that dreaded smiley face logo, glaring from the van's door; the stark, clean white sticks out like a sore thumb in each rearview mirror.

Poison rummages in the glove compartment and pulls out a vivid yellow half mask.  
"Masks on," He commands.

Jet picks up what looks like a replica astronaut helmet by his feet; Ghoul glances at the brightly-coloured motorbike helmet Kobra's been keeping on the seat between them.

"What do I do?" He whispers.

"Don't worry, you're good," Kobra replies, hurrying to get his helmet on and pull the gun out of his thigh holster all at once, "You'll find yer mask in time,"

The menacing little smile gracing Poison's face as he slips the mask over his eyes is enough to turn blood to ice. As the van slows its pace to their right, he leans out of the window.

"Come on, motherfuckers," He spits, "Show us what ya got!"

The van's window starts to roll down, and Poison whips around to the other three.  
"Blasters!" He barks, drawing out his own.

"One step ahead a'ya!" Kobra throws back, leaning across Ghoul and pushing the window button beside him.

"Oh, shit," Jet remarks.  
Another van's just pulled up on the opposite side, identical to the first, and the passenger door's already sliding open.

"Fuck," Poison hisses, "Alright, we're gonna have to split up. Jet, Kobra, take the left. I've got the right covered,"

Ghoul's very aware of the absence of his name in Poison's instructions, but he's got no time to say anything - the first lazer hits the window pane, barely missing the upturned cuff of Poison's jacket. Teeth gritted, Poison sends one right back, hand shaking with the grip on his gun.

Jet and Kobra are firing away unabated on the other side. The masked terrors are emerging already on the left-hand side, three of them stumbling out in their bleach white suits, guns raised. Jet strikes one in the shoulder; they crumple instantaneously to the ground, but another member of their posse appears as if on cue.  
Kobra curses loudly, ducking as a white-hot beam of light nearly brushes his ear. Ghoul launches himself forwards and out of his seat, arms over his head.

"Ya need'a get out!" Poison roars over the shots, his whole form tensed in concentration as he strikes a Drac square in the chest.

"Outta the car?" Jet yells back, bowing his head to avoid another a close shot.

"No, outta yer own damn asshole," Poison scowls as he leans back and pulls the trigger hard, about four consecutive beams coming out fast, "Fucksake, of course outta the car!"

"Alright, alright, keep your fuckin' hair on, boss boy!" Jet grumbles. Pointing his gun at the ground, he shoves the door open and hastily beckons to Kobra. Poison follows on the other side, clambering out of the driver’s seat with his eyes on the van and his blaster at arm's length.

 _He's seriously abandoning me?_ Ghoul feels a surge of rage as he watches Poison from his hunched spot on the floor. He scrambles to his feet as fast as he can within the confines of the car and tumbles out onto the hot sand, swearing under his breath.  
Staggering up, Ghoul hauls his gun from its holster. A Drac seemingly spawns out of nowhere, their cheap horror movie-esque mask leering at him. Without a second thought, Ghoul pulls the trigger.

"Ghoul, what the fuck?"  
The bellow stops Ghoul's breath in its tracks and directs his attention away from the Drac collapsing barely a metre in front, smoke streaming from the dark burn puncturing the front of their white suit. His own glare meets Poison's.

"You were expecting me to stay put back there, were you?" He growls, stomping over.

Before Poison can retaliate, another lazer flies past. Ghoul grabs him by the sleeve and makes a run for it, dodging beams as Poison continues to fire.

"Stop shooting, d'you want the fuckers to follow us?"

"Well, I didn't exactly plan on runnin' away," Poison hurls back, "Like a fuckin' frightened dog,"

"Just shut your mouth," Ghoul snarls.

The pair come to a high sand dune and Ghoul drags Poison behind it.

"Keep low," He whispers. Poison's sleeve is still clutched tight in his fingers as they sit down. They're both wordless for a moment or two, breathing heavily.  
Ghoul releases Poison's sleeve.

"I didn't just forget you," Poison whispers, "I just... I dunno how experienced you are when it comes to this shit, Ghoul, it's fuckin' ruthless and - "

Ghoul hushes him.

"It's fine. I know I'm not the most experienced with a gun - wouldn't have run otherwise. Now keep it down,”

Then they're silent again.  
Poison's eyes widen suddenly and he attempts to stand, but Ghoul pushes him down with a hand on his shoulder.  
"Stay down," He whispers.

"We've left them behind."

With Poison's words, it dawns on Ghoul, and his heart stops for a second. He'd been so caught up in the chaos of the moment he hadn't stopped, he hadn't thought. _Shit. Shit, shit, shit._

"It's alright," He replies, to himself as much as to Poison, "There are two of them and they're sharp as fuck shooters, man... Kobra saved my ass that time,"

"He did?"

"Yeah. Must've been at least six of those bastards," Ghoul decides the best he can do for now is talk persistently, keep hold of Poison's attention so he won't move from their place, "He shot at least half of 'em down, then yanked me and ran, just like we did. Hey, don't," He squeezes Poison's arm as he glances frantically over his shoulder again, "Soon as things've cleared up a little - and you know these things do, pretty fast - we'll go out there, and we'll find them. Hell won't stop us. Yeah?"

"Ok." Poison takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second.

"Anyway, so yeah. We ran like fucking lightning, and we talked," Ghoul laughs softly, "Destroya, he just about lost his shit when I told him I run solo. Took no time in trying to convince me to stay over at the diner for the night,"

Poison starts to bite at the dead skin around his nail as Ghoul continues,

"And I was one resolute jackass, tell ya that. I was like 'fuck no, dude, I'm not really feeling a fight with your leader right now,'"

He grins at the memory, but Poison looks down, tracing a fingertip through the sand. He mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like "fuck," before his head snaps up at the sound of another shot.

"Hey, it's nothing - " Ghoul begins, but Poison holds a hand up to silence him.

"I gotta find them,"

"Poison, listen - "

"No, no, I gotta find them, what the fuck am I doing?" He’s getting restless, brow furrowed, chewing on his bottom lip.

"Poison, please, you need to - "

"No!” Poison tugs his trembling arm out of Ghoul's grip, "It’s my job, I have to, I have -“

"Poison, look at me," Ghoul places a firm hand on the side of Poison's face and turns him. 

Poison shakes his head, gasping, the colour draining from his cheeks as Ghoul gently takes his wrist.

"Alright. Here. Deep breaths,"

****

"That's the last of 'em!" Kobra shouts, shoving his gun back into its holster.

Victorious, as per usual.

"Question is," Jet looks around, pulling off his helmet and wiping the sweat from his temple with the back of his hand, "Where the hell is Poison?"

Kobra shrugs.  
"Saw 'im run off with Ghoul earlier. Shouted to 'em but they didn't hear me."

"Well shit," Jet remarks, "That's something. You sure you were looking at the right guys?"

"I 'aven't seen many other dudes 'round 'ere who have Poison's hair or, y'know, literally are Ghoul, so I'm pretty certain it was." 

****

"You can let go now,"

Ghoul nods and releases Poison's wrist.  
Poison cards his fingers through his hair, resting his hand on his head and gritting his teeth.

"Thank you," He whispers.

Ghoul's right in guessing that Poison doesn't say a lot of thank you's. The two words hit him like a warm baseball bat to the spine.

"No problem," He murmurs.

“Really, thank you.”

Poison looks up from his lap, his expression softer than Ghoul's ever seen it. Sad, almost.  
And it looks like he's finding the words to say, but Ghoul doesn't need to hear them.

He hesitates a little, but then he's engulfed by a big wave of "fuck it," and, pushing everything aside, everything that's passed - every venomous thought, every snide remark, every glare, every punch from a fist full of wrath - he slips his arms around Poison's frame.

For a second, Poison's stiff, unsure. But then his arms snake around Ghoul's neck, and he grips him like a dagger, feeling something like relief as Ghoul's arms tighten.

And they stay like that for what feels like a small eternity.

Ghoul's a little too warm and drenched in sweat and Poison's hands are cold and clammy, but neither of them seem to notice.

When they finally separate, Ghoul laughs, just because he's not really sure what else to do with himself.

Poison clears his throat softly.  
“Well, that was sweet,"

"Yeah," Ghoul smiles, scratching his ear.

Then a nearby voice brings them both back to earth.

"I bet they're be'ind that big sand hill, those little shits, probably makin' out or somethin,"

Poison rolls his eyes, but there's utter solace in his face at the recognition of the voice as Ghoul beams and calls out,

"No, actually, Snakey McShithead, I don't think we are,"

"Knew it!" The voice shouts, "Fuckin' told ya, didn't I?"

From around the corner, Kobra and Jet appear, faces flushed but evidently relieved.

"You two are good at hiding, that's for sure," Jet says with a grin as Poison gets to his feet, putting his hand out to Ghoul to help him up.

The action surprises Ghoul a little - he’s not sure why, but hey, it’s a nice kind of surprise.

"He is," Poison replies, before adding teasingly, "I'm the one who knows how to shoot, he's the one who knows how to run away,"

"Oh, fuck off," Ghoul flips Poison off, smirk still intact, and Poison sticks his tongue out at him as the four start heading back.

"Wait, shit - I never realised you have your tongue pierced!" Ghoul exclaims.

"Yep," Poison says proudly, "Did that shit myself,"

"He did," Jet confirms, visibly shuddering, "I'll never forget that day. Worst thing I've seen in my life,"

Poison just laughs, shoving Jet's arm as the trans am comes into view.  
He turns back to Ghoul,

"Guess that's a story for the next time we end up behind a sand dune."


End file.
